<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>LDWS Drabbles : Rare Pairs by Mimifreed</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025734">LDWS Drabbles : Rare Pairs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimifreed/pseuds/Mimifreed'>Mimifreed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Gen, LDWS ROUND 3: Rare Pairs, Last Drabble Writer Standing, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:20:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimifreed/pseuds/Mimifreed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I competed in the Last Drabble Writer Standing competition and here's the results! I was voted out just before semi-finals, but I wanted to share my drabbles with you! They're in order of week (each chapter will be marked with the prompts and wc requirements)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Astoria Greengrass/Ron Weasley, Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Week 0: Warm Up Week</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Title: Ruby Red</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Pairing: Hermione/Charlie</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Prompt: Red/Passion</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Word Limit: 250</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Actual Word Count: 245</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Oh, Charlie! They’re beautiful!” </p>
<p>Charlie smirked. He knew Hermione was hesitant to come with him to the dragon reserve. After all, her last experience with a dragon had been with a terrified, malnourished and abused Ukranian Ironbelly. </p>
<p>“Want a closer look?” he asked.</p>
<p>Charlie took her hand, twisting his calloused fingers through her soft ones, pulling her lightly in the direction of the massive beasts he loved. His heart thrummed in his chest. He worked day and night with magnificent creatures that could swallow him whole or incinerate him completely, but he never felt more alive than when he held her hand in his. </p>
<p>She was tentative and gave him an apprehensive glance before finally falling into step beside him. He stayed silent, buzzing with excitement as he led her closer to them. Finally, after nearly half an hour of hiking down the valley, he led Hermione to a secluded alcove.</p>
<p>“You may recognize this one,” Charlie mused.</p>
<p>Hermione’s brow pulled together before her eyes went wide, mouth dropping open in surprise. She looked at him. “Is that…?”</p>
<p>An enormous dragon with milky eyes sat before them. Her once sun-deprived, pale hide was now a brilliant shade of ruby red, aside from the deep silver scars that lined her belly and tail. She turned her massive head, emitting a puff of air as she sniffed around them.</p>
<p>“She remembers you,” Charlie said. </p>
<p>Hermione’s eyes brightened with tears, a beaming smile across her face. “She’s beautiful.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Week 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Title: Three Years</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Pairing: Harry / Theo</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Prompt: Blue/Calm</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Word Limit: 400</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Actual Word Count: 386</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry fell to the ground, the wet shore of the Black Lake soaking through the seat of his jeans as he looked out over the shimmering midnight blue of the rippling waters. The cool breeze of early spring lifted his hair and he sighed, looking down to the pamphlet in his hands.<br/><br/><em>Remembrance Day</em><br/><em>1st May, 2001</em><br/><br/>He stared down at the small pictures of smiling faces, gone too long. His fingers traced over the picture of a man who looked exactly like him with his arm slung around a beautiful, laughing, red-haired woman with emerald eyes. He blinked, stubbornly forcing away the prickle in his eyes and turned his face toward the sky—a brilliant kaleidoscope of blues, whites and yellow in the bright morning sun.<br/><br/>Harry let out a slow breath and for the first time all morning, he felt the knot in his chest loosen. It felt wrong, almost, to be able to breathe. As if the gorgeous day and the ability to exhale was making a mockery of the lives robbed from so many. He ignored the sound of the twigs snapping beneath feet as someone approached him. Harry was not ready to bring himself back to reality and the weight of real life, but the tiniest giggle brought him from his reverie.<br/><br/>He looked over his shoulder and forced a smile.<br/><br/>“Wondered where you’d run off to,” Theo said, adjusting Teddy on his hip.<br/><br/>Harry beckoned them to his side, “Sit with me.”<br/><br/>Theo smiled and shifted the squirming toddler in his arms. He sat beside Harry, lacing their fingers together. Teddy climbed from Theo’s lap to Harry’s own, an identical pamphlet clutched in his small fist. He cuddled against Harry’s chest, a shock of aqua-turning-turquoise hair tickling his nose.<br/><br/>“Three years,” Theo whispered.<br/><br/>“Three years,” Harry repeated.<br/><br/>He pressed a kiss into the hair of the boy pulling at his shirt. Teddy squealed with joy as the giant squid broke the surface of the water, waving the papers wildly at the creature. Once he finally settled, the tiny boy stared down at two faces that smiled and waved to him.<br/><br/>“Mummy! Daddy!”<br/><br/>Harry swallowed the lump in his throat as Theo squeezed his hand.<br/><br/>“They were heroes, Teddy.” Theo said, giving Harry a significant glance. “And they loved you very much.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Week 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Title:</strong> The Wrong Color</p>
<p><strong>Pairing:</strong> Blaise / Ginny</p>
<p><strong>Prompt: </strong> Green / Jealousy</p>
<p><strong>Word Limit:</strong> 450</p>
<p><strong>Actual Word Count:</strong> 450</p><hr/>
<p>The knot that tightened in Blaise’s stomach surged into his throat the moment he saw Harry Potter step forward. The high-pitched voice of Lord Voldemort still rang in his ears and fear had begun to creep in, all consuming. At seventeen, he never thought it would come to this. He had been arrogant to think the war would wait, that he could escape to Italy with his mother. However, war did not favour the neutral—and Blaise had made his decision.</p>
<p>He went to take a step forward, but Pansy beat him to it. With a finger pointed at Potter she yelled, “Well someone grab him!”</p>
<p>Blaise stared at Pansy in disbelief, his expression blank. Surely, she didn’t believe Potter should die—he was the Chosen One, for Merlin’s sake! Blaise tore his eyes away from her and was met with the unforgiving glare of Ginny Weasley.</p>
<p>She stood with her back straight, arms folded over her chest and a scowl marring her beautiful face. There was no question in her eyes—she thought he was just as bad as the rest of them.</p>
<p>Somewhere in the background, he heard Filch announce the disruption of curfew; astonished by the amount of students out of bed at this hour.</p>
<p>And then came Professor McGonagall’s voice, “Take the Slytherin’s to the dungeons.”</p>
<p>Blaise looked around, incredulously. Every other student was given the opportunity to stay and fight, to openly declare where they stood. His heart raced as he watched his peers; a sea of red, blue, and yellow trimmed robes brandishing their wands and adorning the same fierce look.</p>
<p>His robes were lined with the wrong color. He wanted to prove he was more than the house he had been sorted and a handsome face. How was it that someone like Zacharias Smith, as insufferable as he was, could stand and fight without question? But, just because Blaise’s robes were green instead of yellow, he was banished with the rest of them—treated as a Death Eater.</p>
<p>Blaise lurched forward, shoved by another student as they followed Filch out. The chatter resumed and Blaise could hear McGonagall barking orders. He locked eyes with Ginny once more. He wasn’t a sympathizer or a Death Eater! He gave her a pleading look. If he could just prove that he was more than the green on his robes, perhaps she would give him the benefit of the doubt awarded to the other houses...</p>
<p>She sneered and looked away and Blaise felt a tug on his elbow, “Zabini, let’s go.”</p>
<p>Blaise swallowed back the bitterness he tasted on his tongue and nodded, shuffling out of the hall behind Theo.</p>
<p>Blaise realized he hated the color green; it didn't suit him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Week 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Title:</strong> The Critic</p>
<p><strong>Pairing:</strong> Pansy / Percy</p>
<p><strong>Prompt: </strong> Grey / Complexity</p>
<p><strong>Word Limit:</strong> 500</p>
<p><strong>Actual Word Count:</strong> 490</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>

<p></p><div class="gs">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p></p>
    <div class="ii gt">
      <p></p>
      <div class="a3s aiL">
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p></p>
          <div>
            <p>“He sent it back, Chef.”</p>
            <p>Pansy’s arm stilled in the air, sending perfectly sauteed mirepoix raining down, spraying her wrist with hot oil. </p>
            <p>“He <em>what?</em>” she hissed.</p>
            <p>“Sent it back.”</p>
            <p>Pansy took a deep breath and turned to face the expediting table, trying to ignore the twitch in her left eye as the dish glared up at her. She untied her apron and cast it aside, moving around the line to snatch up the plate.</p>
            <p>“Where are you going?”</p>
            <p>“I just want to have a little <em>chat</em> with the critic,” Pansy said, marching from the kitchen.</p>
            <p>As she shoved through the swinging doors, her eyes scanned the dining room. He was sitting alone—red hair, horn-rimmed glasses and a leather bound journal.</p>
            <p>Percy <em>fucking</em> Weasley.</p>
            <p>She caught the eye of the bartender and watched as he stilled, mid shake. The patrons quieted, watching her curiously as she crossed the dining room floor. Percy barely acknowledged her when she reached the table. She slammed the plate to the white, linen covered surface and stared expectantly at him.</p>
            <p>He adjusted his glasses and motioned to the plate, “I sent this dish back, Chef Parkinson.”</p>
            <p>“And, I’m unsending it.”</p>
            <p>Percy folded his hands and turned in his seat to look up at her, “Excuse me?”</p>
            <p>“I <em>said</em>, I’m unsending it. There’s nothing wrong with this dish.”</p>
            <p>“I don’t mean to insult you, Chef, but it was rather...simple.”</p>
            <p>Her left eye twitched.</p>
            <p>“I don’t mean to insult <em>you,</em> Mr Weasley,” she parroted. “But, did you even taste it?”</p>
            <p>“Yes. It’s lacking a certain complexity I enjoy when writing a good review. I thought I would do you a favor in sending it back, instead of critiquing something so low effort.”</p>
            <p>Pansy sucked her teeth and nodded. “Right,” she drawled. She snapped her fingers to get the attention of the passing server, “Silverware!” </p>
            <p>She rounded his table and yanked a chair out, sitting down and thanking the server as he handed her two rolls of silverware.</p>
            <p>“Chef Parkinson—“</p>
            <p>Pansy interrupted him with a fork and a raised eyebrow, “Take the damn fork.”</p>
            <p>“This is extremely unprofessional.”</p>
            <p>Pansy glared at Percy and dug her own fork into the dish, careful to make sure the sauce was covering the duck. She watched as he copied her motion, putting his fork into his mouth.</p>
            <p>“Do you taste that?” she asked. “Velvety mouthfeel. Bitter on the front, from tart cherries, that dissipates to sweet. Acid from the wine as it hits your throat. Duck, perfectly medium rare, accoutrements unneeded. Complex flavors are not reserved for dishes no one can pronounce, Mr Weasley. There is beauty in simplicity.”</p>
            <p>Percy stared at her a beat before sinking his fork into the dish again and she smirked. Pansy pushed the plate closer to him and stood, straightening her gray chef’s coat.</p>
            <p>“I’ll have your server bring you some wine—a nice Beaujolais, I think.” </p>
            <p>“Thank you, Chef.” Percy said. </p>
            <p>“Thank me in your review.”</p>
            <p> </p>
            <p> </p>
            <p></p>
            <div class="yj6qo">
              <p> </p>
            </div>
            <div class="adL">
              <p> </p>
            </div>
          </div>
        </div>
        <div class="adL">
          <p> </p>
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
    <div class="hi">
      <p> </p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Week 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Title: </strong>Squint</p>
<p><strong>Pairing:</strong> Harry / Daphne</p>
<p><strong>Prompt: </strong>Orange / Creativity</p>
<p><strong>Word Limit:</strong> 100</p>
<p><strong>Actual Word Count:</strong> 99</p><hr/>
<p>Harry’s head tilted to the right, his eyes nearly shut as he squinted hard at the mess sitting on the table. Daphne’s shoulder brushed against his, her hands still sticky with the stringy, orange pulp that laid in a heap on an old newspaper.</p>
<p>“It’s terrible,” she laughed.</p>
<p>Harry’s head tilted again—this time to the left—and he crouched, getting eye level with the pumpkin. The holes that were meant to be eyes were asymmetrical, it’s mouth jagged and lopsided. Daphne was right, it looked dreadful.</p>
<p>“No, it’s not. There’s a face there, you just have to sort of… squint.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Week 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Title: </strong>Sunshine</p>
<p><strong>Pairing:</strong> Ginny / Luna</p>
<p><strong>Prompt: </strong>Yellow / Playful</p>
<p><strong>Word Limit:</strong> 500</p>
<p><strong>Actual Word Count:</strong> 499</p>
<p><strong>Twist: </strong>This Drabble <em>can not</em> take place at Hogwarts</p>
<hr/>

<p></p><div class="gs">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p></p>
    <div class="ii gt">
      <p></p>
      <div class="a3s aiL">
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p></p>
          <div>
            <p>Ginny’s eyes burned from the golden rays reflected off the pond. She swiped furiously at the puffy skin and sniffled as the tall grass tickled her elbows. She could hear the commotion going on at The Burrow—so many people had come to give their condolences.</p>
            <p>She felt suffocated by well wishes and sympathy cards.</p>
            <p>She wanted nothing more than to go flying and clear her head of some of the grief that had made her brain go fuzzy. But, the thought of getting on her broom—<em>Fred’s broom</em>—made her stomach knot. Instead, she picked up Arnold, her Pygmy Puff, and ran until her legs could carry her no more. Until the pounding in her chest deafened her with blood-rushed ears and brought her to this place on the ground.</p>
            <p>“He’s quite cute.”</p>
            <p>Ginny craned her neck to look behind her at the sound of Luna’s voice floating through the air. She gave a half hearted smile. “Yeah. Bit dramatic though.”</p>
            <p>Arnold chirped loudly in protest and fell over, twitching.</p>
            <p>Luna’s laugh was far more exuberant than the situation called for, and Ginny couldn’t help but smile along with her. Luna adjusted the satchel on her hip and sat next to Ginny, their shoulders touching. They sat in silence as Arnold moved around on the ground, chasing after beetles and frolicking through the grass.</p>
            <p>“I have one too,” Luna said.</p>
            <p>“Do you?”</p>
            <p>Luna nodded and opened the flap on the satchel, pulling out a fluffy, yellow ball. “I tried a spell to turn him blue.”</p>
            <p>“Doesn’t look like it worked,” Ginny said, flatly.</p>
            <p>“No, but I think this is better.”</p>
            <p>Luna set the yellow puff next to Arnold and they watched as the two began to chase one another around, bumping into each other and chirping happily. As they sat, Ginny felt her throat constrict again as the weight of the day became heavy and she took a deep, shaking breath.</p>
            <p>“When mum died, dad said that the days would be sunny again, eventually.” Luna whispered. </p>
            <p>Ginny’s vision clouded as she blinked, hot tears burning in her eyes. “Were they?”</p>
            <p>“Oh yes,” Luna said. “It’s still stormy, sometimes. But, I think the sun comes out more often than it’s hidden.”</p>
            <p>Ginny looked away from Luna’s thoughtful expression and stared up to the sky. The sun shone above—blinding beams of bright light streaked through wispy clouds against the veil of light blue. As the grass rustled around them, she heard a laugh echo across the field, carried to her in a whisper on the breeze.</p>
            <p>A distinct laugh, that cracked in the middle and turned to a wheeze on the end. <em>George’s laugh</em>. </p>
            <p>She swallowed the thickness in her throat and turned to look at Luna. “I think there’s finally sun today.”</p>
            <p>Luna smiled, her head tilted to the side. “Yes, I had that impression as well.”</p>
            <p>As George’s laughter rang through the fields again, Ginny laid her head on Luna’s shoulder and watched the pygmy puffs play. Finally, she could breathe.</p>
            <p> </p>
            <p></p>
            <div class="adL">
              <p> </p>
            </div>
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Week 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Title: </strong>Introductions</p>
<p><strong>Pairing:</strong> Ron / Astoria</p>
<p><strong>Prompt: </strong>White / Status</p>
<p><strong>Word Limit:</strong> 500</p>
<p><strong>Actual Word Count:</strong> 492</p>
<p><strong>Twist: </strong>The Drabble is <em>not allowed</em> to take place at an event (wedding, gala, ball, party, etc)</p>
<hr/>

<p></p><div class="gs">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p></p>
    <div class="ii gt">
      <p></p>
      <div class="a3s aiL">
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p></p>
          <div>
            <p>It was a white paper bag wrapped around a glass bottle containing an amber liquid that caught her attention. </p>
            <p>From where she stood, Astoria could smell the sharp tang of whisky rolling off the man in waves of hiccups and nonsensical rambling. His shoulders were slumped, red hair framing his face that was turned toward the stars. The low light of the alcove behind The Leaky Cauldron caught the shimmer of wet that streaked his cheeks. </p>
            <p>“Are you quite alright?” she asked, before she had the sense to turn around and ignore the war hero sobbing against the bricks. She had seen him before, of course, his picture was constantly splashed across <em>The Daily Prophet</em>, one third of the famed “Golden Trio”.</p>
            <p>A sarcastic laugh puffed past his lips and he waved the bottle in her direction, the white paper bag slipping a few inches from his grip. “Bloody brilliant.”</p>
            <p>Ignoring the voice in the back of her head that insisted this was not her problem, Astoria took a few hesitant steps forward. Her face pulled in distaste at the dirt on the ground where he sat and she waved her wand to clear the space before carefully lowering herself next to him, her legs folded in front of her.</p>
            <p>“Well, come on then.” She said, holding her hand out toward the bottle.</p>
            <p>He straightened up a bit, turning to look at her. “What?”</p>
            <p>Astoria shook her hand at him, insistent. “It’s rather rude to not offer a lady a drink.”</p>
            <p>He barked out a laugh and took a swig from the bottle, “You drink cheap Firewhisky?”</p>
            <p>“Well, I don’t prefer it. But, given it’s my only option at the moment…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows at him, her empty fingers wiggling toward the paper wrapped bottle.</p>
            <p>He snorted and handed it to her, his blue eyes piercing as he watched her raise it to her lips.</p>
            <p>“To what are we drinking this evening?” she asked.</p>
            <p>“I failed my Auror exams,” he said, miserably.</p>
            <p>Astoria drew her brows together and pursed her lips, “To second chances, then?”</p>
            <p>“I’m not going back to the academy,” he admitted. “I don’t know why I thought I could do it in the first place. I’ll just go work at the joke shop with George.”</p>
            <p>“It would have been polite to just agree, I can’t drink to your humiliation—that’s in bad taste.” </p>
            <p>His mouth pulled up on one side, a sloppy, lopsided smile. He held a hand out toward her, “Ron Weasley.”</p>
            <p>“I know who you are.”</p>
            <p>“It would have been polite to just shake my hand,” Ron parroted. “Drinking my whisky and not introducing yourself? <em>That's</em> in bad taste.”</p>
            <p>“I haven’t drank your whisky yet,” Astoria said, with a smirk. She took his proffered hand, “Astoria Greengrass.”</p>
            <p>“To new friends, then?” Ron said, smiling brightly.</p>
            <p>Astoria returned the smile and raised the bottle to her lips, the bag crinkling beneath her fingers. “To new friends.”</p>
            <p></p>
            <div class="yj6qo">
              <p> </p>
            </div>
            <div class="adL">
              <p> </p>
            </div>
          </div>
        </div>
        <div class="adL">
          <p> </p>
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
    <div class="hi">
      <p> </p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was my last round! I made it six weeks, and I was so excited every week to be apart of this competition! Thank you to everyone who read and voted &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>